


Obvious Child

by EffieA



Series: (Ravager) Family Dynamics [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Young Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffieA/pseuds/EffieA
Summary: Young Peter encounters Stakar Ogord.





	Obvious Child

**Author's Note:**

> Well I'm accustomed to a smoother ride  
> Maybe I'm a dog that's lost his bite  
> I don't expect to be treated like a fool no more  
> I don't expect to sleep the night  
> Some people say a lie is just a lie  
> But I say the cross is in the ballpark  
> Why deny the obvious child?
> 
> Paul Simon, "The Obvious Child"

Peter Quill glares at his drink. It's not like it's the first time he’s been left in a bar by Yondu. No, that would be when he was eight and had come out of the bathroom to find the Ravagers had moved on without their resident Terran. The bartender had taken pity on him and let him huddle under the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar until the captain came back and pulled him up by his jacket, whacking him on the back of the head as if Peter had chosen to be abandoned in a saloon filled with bounty hunters, slavers and criminals. Typical. (It would be years later while staring down at the plant-child he’d just pulled out of quicksand on some uninhabited planet that he'd realize he may have misinterpreted Yondu’s face expression on that and so many occasions.) 

A little more than ten years have passed since that first incident and he’s a full-fledged Ravager who can take care of himself. All he has to do now is sit around and wait. The blue jerk will be back, especially seeing as Quill currently owes him a couple thousand units for repairs on the _Milano_ after a not so great landing a few jobs ago. He rests his head in his hands. He might be waiting a few days this time, though. Yondu was pretty furious when Peter questioned the execution of their last heist and the captain's competency in front of Oblo and Kraglin and his mood didn't improve when Peter managed to dodge his punch. The next two had landed, however, and Peter made a hasty retreat out the back door before the arrow could come out and skewer him. By the time he got back to the port, the M-ship they'd traveled down in was gone. He ended up wandering back to the same bar, which was a total mistake as this bartender was considerably less sympathetic and Peter got stuck paying for a bottle of booze “one of you frickin’ Ravagers” (Kraglin? Probably Kraglin) had grabbed on their way out. 

Peter hears talking and laughter behind him and from the corner of his eye he can see a group of people entering through the main door. He's definitely not in the mood for a party atmosphere and he should probably figure out where he's going to stay the night so he gulps the last of his drink and grabs the jacket he’d draped over the next barstool. It's while he's shrugging it over his shoulders that the voices around him settle down into an uncomfortable silence. Peter feels his muscles tense under the grubby leather. It isn't as if he's unused to this kind of reaction, but it’s usually triggered by a certain Centaurian and a whistle. Maybe it _is_ Yondu. Maybe Peter has finally pushed things too far and the last thing he's going to see is the filthy interior of a dive bar. His mom would not be proud.

“Turn around and don't try nothing stupid.” Huh, Peter thinks. That's definitely not Yondu, although there’s something about the voice he can't place. 

“Okey-dokey, dude.” Peter unhooks the blaster from his belt and carefully sits it on the bar. “But if this is about your girlfriend or sister or something, let me just explain…” 

He turns to see a vaguely familiar-looking middle-aged man with dark hair in a navy blue uniform with glowing gold bands over the shoulders and a flame insignia on the sleeve. The same one that appears on every one of the extremely well-armed people surrounding him. “Oh. Well, shit.”

“Yeah, that about covers it, kid.” The strange Ravager elbows the person on his left while gesturing at Peter. “What d’ya make of this, Marty?” Peter tries not to stare at “Marty” who appears to be made out of faceted glass like the ashtrays in his grandpa's house. 

“I think it's highly unusual to find one of Yondu’s crew drinking alone in an unregulated mining colony.”

That's true enough. “Stick to a group, Quill, an’ stay the hell away from other Ravager factions” is something Peter has been hearing since before he was even old enough to go out drinking alone. Or even to drink at all, let's be honest. “Yep, I can confirm it's frowned on,” Peter says with a toothy grin and a cock of his head. The captain gives him a funny look. Yeah, Peter is sure this guy is a captain and he’d bet money that Ashtray-Dude is first mate. He should know; he's been part of a Ravager crew half his life and far longer than he was in school. He's grown up in the shadow of those dynamics.

The captain closes the space between them and pokes at his shoulder. “Where's the rest of your crew, boy? This is a small port and we didn’t see any others.”

“Look, Captain, err....?”

“Ogord.”

Of course. Because things can always get worse. He grew up knowing about the other Ravager clans and their founder Stakar Ogord but more as a shadowy concept, like the Soviets back on Earth. He knew they were bad and would want to kill him, but no one was ever very generous with details. When he was in his early teens he learned (from Tullk, who talks a lot when he's drunk) that Stakar had cut off Yondu for breaking the code and what that meant exactly. It was a huge revelation and Peter decided it was better not to examine the implications of it too much.

“Captain Ogord, you're probably not going to believe me, but I haven't got a clue where the _Eclector_ is. It's just me here and I don't even have a ship. You can try my comm if you want, but I can pretty much guarantee nobody'll answer.” It's a bluff. Maybe Yondu and Kraglin wouldn’t answer but anyone else on the bridge likely would, if only to yell at Peter for missing his shift.

Ogord just looks at him for a minute, eyes narrowing at the bruises starting to form on his face and then past him to Peter's collection of empty glasses on the bar. “You're a deserter.” It's not a question and it's said with enough distaste to make Peter frown, but it's not like he can launch into a full explanation. He nods. The captain turns to his first mate with a look of exasperation. “What are we even supposed to do with this one?”

“He’s young, Captain. He can’t have been with them long.”

“Old enough to join Yondu’s band of moronic riffraff.” 

“Hey, that’s rude! I can read, write and add fractions!” interjects Peter only to be ignored.

“True, but he chose to leave. That shows a measure of maturity.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” The captain sighs. “What’s your name, kid?”

Peter considers lying but decides not to bother. “Peter Jason Quill.”

Ogord’s face doesn’t show any recognition. “Alright, fine. You can go, Peter Jason Quill. Get outta here.”

“Gee, thanks,” says Peter, but he lets out the breath he’d been holding and hooks the blaster to his belt. 

“You can hand over that jacket, though. You deserted anyway.”

Peter turns to him with a glare. “Dude! It’s cold out there. I’m wearing a t-shirt!”

Ogord just shakes his head. Then he steps forward and tears the gold flame patch from the red leather sleeve. Peter had sewn it on himself when he outgrew his last jacket and it comes off easily. Peter heads back toward the door. This is not going to be fun to explain to the tailor or, God forbid, Yondu, if he happens to notice. “Dick,” he mutters as he walks away.

“What did you say?”

Peter knows he should lie and get the hell out, but he doesn’t. He turns around. “I said you’re a dick.”

The captain takes a couple steps closer to him. “Tread carefully, now, son. You'd better just keep on walking.” The other Ravagers, who had lost interest in Peter and begun drinking and socializing, have snapped back to attention. 

Peter nods, slouches his shoulders and turns toward the exit. Then he swivels around fluidly, drawing his blaster at the same time so that it ends up inches from Stakar Ogord's face. It's a trick Yondu taught him. Peter smiles. He could have killed the captain and they all know it. Of course, Peter would have been dead approximately three seconds later given the array of firearms currently aimed at him. Plus a glass hand on his shoulder and a gun being pressed against the back of his neck. “Drop your weapon.” He does. 

Stakar looks more surprised than angry. “Who taught you how to handle a blaster like that?” 

“Oh, uh, my dad.” It was the first thing that came to mind to say. After all, If he'd had a dad that's probably who would have taught him how to shoot. Instead, it had been Yondu, who, to Peter's amazement, is an extremely good shot. The Centaurian pretty much uses his arrow exclusively and rarely even picks up a gun under normal circumstances, but during their shooting sessions Peter saw a kind of precision and expertise that could only come from considerable training and practice. He wanted to ask about it but never mustered up the courage. 

“He a soldier or something?”

“Er, not really...”

“OK, new plan,” Captain Ogord says while still looking at Peter. “I'm gonna go see our buyer and I'm taking Quill along. Martinex, stay here and I'll comm if we need you.” 

“Is that really a good idea?” The first mate asks.

“He just pulled a gun on you, Captain!” That comes from a Krylorian woman. 

Stakar laughs. “If I can't protect myself from one punk, I don't deserve to be a captain.” He looks at Peter. “You gonna try to kill me again, kid?”

“Uh, no, not planning on it. But-”

“Great. Pick up that blaster and let's go then.”

***

“Hey, Cap'n?” 

Yondu looks up from the holo pad he was using to search for jobs and definitely not to read the Nova Times celebrity gossip columns. “What is it, Kraglin?”

“I got a message here from a client on Xandar. Wants us t' go t' Aedi and steal some illegal tech stuff for 'im. He'll pay 5,000 now and 10,000 on delivery.”

“Same guy we worked with last year?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, we'll do it.”

“Oh, and Cap'n?”

“What?”

“We'll be goin' right by that moon we was just on. Wanna stop and get Quill?” Yondu pretends to go back to reading. “Sir?”

“I don't know. Thought maybe we'd leave him for good this time. Lot of hassle he's caused lately.”

“Oh, sure, Cap'n.” Kraglin fights the temptation to roll his eyes. There might be some idiots on this ship who would believe that (Peter probably included), but he's not one of them. He shudders to think about what it would take for Yondu to actually turn against the Terran. May it never come to that. He works on his reply to the client then turns back to his captain. “So we stoppin' or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, we'll stop. Need fuel anyway.”

“Oh, right, a' course, Cap'n.”

***

It's an awkward walk to the port terminal. “So, um. Thanks for not murdering me, I guess.”

The Ravager captain snorts. “You really think I'd kill someone for being a dumbass kid?”

“Well. Yes.”

Stakar looks at him. “I don't know what went down on the _Eclector_ while you were there, but we're not all scumbags like Yondu Udonta.” Peter bristles at that. Yondu might be the man who abducted him, beat him up teaching him to fight and banned him from flying for two whole months because of one measly crash-landing, but this Ogord dude is being unfair. 

“You shouldn't talk about him like that.”

“Why? 'Cause he's such a good guy?” Sarcasm drips from every word. 

“No. It's- Look, I know he's a bad person. But so are most Ravagers, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“Anyway, I think he could be a lot worse and he knows it. Like he's trying, or something.”

There's silence for a moment. “You know, kid, you're not half as dumb as you look.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

They've reached the hangar and Stakar walks over to a ship. “Right, we need to head to the other side of this moon.”

“Wow.” It looks a lot like the M-ships Peter's used to but it's newer and sleeker and painted dark blue and silver. It's also a lot cleaner inside. He goes straight to the co-pilot's seat and starts fiddling with the controls. It definitely has more advanced features than his beloved _Milano_. 

“What are you up to?”

“Oh. Sorry, it's just habit.”

“Nah, it's OK, you can stay if you know what you're doing.”

“Cool, thanks.”

“Your old man teach you to fly too?”

“...yeah.”

Stakar switches over the controls and lets Peter fly them to the destination plugged into the nav system. This part of the moon is less developed and they land in a field between some mines and the settlement. When Peter tries to disembark, Stakar grabs his arm. “You're not representing me dressed like that. Look in that drawer behind you, there should be some spare coats. Try to find one that fits.”

“I never asked to represent-”

“Just do it.” 

The first two are too small and the third is too big but he puts it on top of what he's already wearing. He runs his fingers over the flame patch and thinks about how long it's been since he's owned a jacket not made out of red leather.

They walk through a shanty town that gives way to a collection of beige buildings in various states of disrepair. They approach a particularly squat and ugly one that Peter knows very well, on account of having visited it earlier that day. Ogord motions for him to go in. 

“Maybe I should stay outside and keep watch?”

“Maybe you should do as I say and come in?

They walk into the ill-lit interior and Peter does his best to stay in the shadows during the negotiation. It's a technique that seems to work until the black market dealer offers to pay 8,000 units for some rare minerals from a closed but well-guarded mine and Stakar looks ready to agree. It's the same job Yondu's faction just completed. “Don't accept! It should be at least 10k.” Two heads whip around to look at him.

“It's you! How can it be you?”

“He was here before?”

“Just this morning with- with some other people.” Peter tries to shrink into the clutter around him. 

“OK, so I have two observations,” states the Ravager captain with a scowl as he turns toward Peter. “First, they brought you to a client meeting. Why the hell would they do that?”

Peter can only shrug and look away. 

“And second,” his attention is back to the dealer with a combination of aggression and control that Peter recognizes instantly. “ _You_ work with Yondu knowing full well I've forbidden it." 

“Please, Captain Ogord, I didn't have any idea who they were 'til they got here! It was just some skinny Xandarian on the comm-” That's a lie. They've done jobs for this guy for over a year now and he's the one who sought them out originally. 

“Shut up. Did this kid take part in the negotiation?”

“What? Oh. No. He mostly just stood around and looked bored.” The dealer glares at Peter and points to a shelf of colorful trinkets on the opposite wall. “And he stole one of those. Thought I didn't see him, but I did.”

Stakar gives Peter a puzzled look. “Why would you steal a toy?”

“I dunno. Because?”

“Huh. Well, c'mon, let's go,” he turns back and points a finger at the merchant. “Have fun finding someone for your job, a-hole. You're blacklisted.” 

As they're leaving the shop, Peter gets a message from Kraglin. They'll be stopping by on their way to Aedi in a couple hours. 

Stakar looks over at him. “I'm gonna head back to my ship. The rest of the guys who came down are already on their way up. I can drop you at the port if you want-”

“Yeah, that'd be great.”

“Or you can come with me.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Seriously. Marty might take some convincing after that stunt you pulled in the bar, but I think you'd do well with us.”

“So I have a choice?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't you?”

“No reason.” Peter stops and takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Captain, I really do appreciate it, but I think I should stay on my own for now.”

“On your own?”

“Yeah.”

“All right.” He looks at Peter's bruised face. “Try to avoid becoming someone's punching bag from now on, though.”

“Yeah, I'll try. Wait. Punching bag... punching... that's it!”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just realized who you reminded me of, that's all.”

“You're a strange one, Quill. Let's head out.”

***

Peter climbs aboard Kraglin's M-ship and sinks into a chair. Yondu is off paying for fuel and Kraglin's at the nav controls. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he's glad to be back in familiar territory. Then, instead of the expected lecture, Kraglin gives him a look of genuine fear and concern that Peter has only seen directed at him a couple times in all the years they've know each other. 

“Pete, that jacket-” Too late.

“There you are boy- _what in the hell?"_

***

“You know, I was kinda hoping he'd join up,” Stakar says to his first mate as they go over navigation plans on the bridge.

“All in all, Captain, I think it's probably best he did not.”

“Maybe. I wonder how much of it he'll tell Yondu?”

“Yondu? But the boy deserted.”

“Hmm. I wonder.”

***

“Whad'ya mean ya found it?! How could you have found it?"

“I dunno, I just did- Hey, watch it with that thing! You almost took my ear off!”

"Tha's the idea." Yondu watches Peter try to curl up behind the pilot's chair like he used to when he was just a tiny thing too tired to stay awake on long flights. “Hidin' ain't gonna work. You better start explaining.”

“Cap'n, can ya maybe do this outside? I just got this ship all fixed up.”

“I should have stayed with Space Rocky.”


End file.
